


a hunger never satisfied

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Banter, F/M, First Dates, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Sex, Sexual Tension, Size Difference, Tattoos, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: Pompous doesn’t seem to be a strong enough word to describe Kylo Ren, but he pays well, and really--that’s all Rey really needs at the moment to keep her small tattoo shop up and running.





	1. hold your devil by the spoke

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my take on a tattoo-verse Reylo fic. Having never received a tattoo myself this fic is . . . likely filled with inaccuracies, but it was a thought that I couldn't shake and decided to write it out and see where it goes! It's being broken up into two parts because, as of yet, it's in the upwards of 5k words, and I figured it'd read better as a two-parter than one, unbroken text. 
> 
> That, and it'll give me more time (and incentive) to finish this bad boy up. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy it! More tags will be added when the second chapter goes up. Thanks again!

“Excuse me. Do you have any immediate openings available? I’m in a bit of a hurry.” 

Right. Because  _ that  _ was always the perfect time for a tattoo was when you were in a rush. From where she was sitting at the front desk, with her head down, she couldn’t see much more of the man aside from his genuine leather shoes through the glass case showing off the piercings they offered. Feet turned into legs, miles high and encased in well fitting black slacks, then a long torso with a fitted suit jacket, and finally a face framed by wavy hair, the man’s expression already less than pleased. What in the hell was a man this well dressed doing  _ here _ ? 

“What’d you have in mind?” she asked, looking up from her own doodlings to him. 

“Nothing too extravagant. Is the artist available?” 

Was he shitting her? She crooked a brow and gave him another once over, feeling her fists tighten. “Suppose so, yeah. If by available you mean all she’s been doing is doodling for the past half hour.” She watched his face, saw a flicker of surprise slip through his dark eyes. He opened his mouth--to apologize? to call himself an idiot?--but she stepped away and towards her work room, crooking her fingers for him to follow. He certainly wasn’t the first one to assume that she was only the secretary, that there was a man covered in tattoos waiting just behind the door with a fresh needle and some ink to do them up. He wouldn’t be the last to think so, either, but it didn’t lower her heartrate any more as she took her seat in her chair and offered one up to him. 

“So, what’d you have in mind? Usually we start with a consultation--.”

“Yes, I do apologize.” He didn’t sound it.  His terse attitude made her chomp down on the inside of her cheek. “But I’m willing to pay if you’ll take me on.” 

She swallowed her desire to tell him to shove his money up his ass until he spit gold. Rent was coming up for the building and  _ really _ , she could use the money. It’d been a slow month, slow enough that she’d taken to sleeping in the shop rather than wasting the electricity in her apartment. Owning a tattoo shop had never been a “make millions” sort of idea to Rey, but she had expected it to be a little easier to pay the bills now that this was  _ hers _ , and she’d be damned if she went back to Jakku’s hole in the wall excuse for a shop. So, she nodded, and accepted the paper that this man passed her. On it was an intricate drawing of a black mask, one she recognized with a jolt in her stomach. She’d be a fool not to see the sunken eye sockets, the protruding helm visor, and the mouth plate and not know just who it was she was tattooing on this man. Behind the helmet was a longsword pointed downwards, the crossguard blades visible just past the edges of the helmet. The blade had been shaded in a deep red to contrast the black of Darth Vader’s helmet.  _ Nothing extravagant _ her ass. 

“You drew this?” she asked, looking up at him. He shook his head. “Alright. Well, I don’t know if I’ll be able to squeeze the whole thing in in the time you have--.” 

“Don’t worry about that. It’s already been started.” 

She gawked at him as he began to undo the buttons of his grey button down. He removed it with ease, slipping his suit jacket off first, then methodically folding up the shirt until it joined the jacket. His undershirt was off before she could do much more than splutter: “Wait, you’ve gotten it started?” 

Yes, he had. And not very well, in her opinion. The outline had healed decently enough, but it resembled the outline of Asia more so than any sort of helmet. That would need a great deal of extra work, she noted, and the sword was just about lost in the vastness of the face that would be peering down at her from his back. What was more, they’d not bothered to center it, so she’d have to redo  _ that _ . ‘ _ Probably have to make it larger, too, to cover the outline _ .’ She shivered, reaching out a hand to run her fingers across it with a frown on her face. He didn’t say anything as she pressed her fingertips to the first curve and frowned to find that it was hardly symmetrical with the other. 

“Yes. As you can see, they fucked it up. I’d like it fixed and finished.” 

Again, irritation welled deep inside of her, pushing past any sort of sympathy she might’ve had for his shitty experience at another shop. She might not be always able to keep the place heated in the winter, but at least she’d never had a single complaint about her work. Now this monster of a man wanted her to do someone else’s work? It wasn’t even her original sketch! How was he so sure she’d be able to do a decent job of it? She gritted her teeth, pulling her fingers away from his skin. 

“This’ll take longer than you have,” she reiterated. “And I don’t do someone else’s work.” She handed him back his drawing. He looked up at her and frowned. His right hand covered her wrist when she tried to shove the drawing back at him, and instead pushed it closer to her. 

“How much would a tattoo like this cost?” he asked. His gaze was hard, as unyielding as the mask of the man he wanted her to tattoo on his back. 

“Easily over a grand,” she said without batting an eyelash. 

“Let’s make it an even five. If you get started on it right now,” he said, and Rey’s grip on the paper faltered. Wait. 

“You’re serious?” Five grand.  _ Five grand _ for a shitty Darth Vader tattoo on this asshole’s back. She could pay Finn, pay the next month’s rent and bills, and still have enough money for more than the fast food and cheap noodles that had become her primary diet. 

“Half up front, half at the end. Right?” The intensity with which he was staring at her was a little disconcerting, but she’d had her fair share of strange clients before, and none of them paid this much. She steeled herself to smile, watching with amazement as he fished into his back pocket and shelled out a cool 2500 without so much as batting an eyelash, handing her the bankroll of freshly counted hundred dollar bills as if he was buying a coffee. She took it, swallowing thickly, and murmured that she’d be right back to grab a contract, one that’d legally bind them to the agreed price and that said he wasn’t going to press charges, or anything, for services rendered. With the kind of money he was throwing around she wouldn’t have doubted that it would’ve hardly been anything for him to string her along for everything she had if it came down to it, so it was more for her protection than anything else. 

If he didn’t like it, well, she’d give back the lump of cash burning in her pocket and they’d part ways. That would be it. 

He looked over the contract, made a couple of noncommittal noises, then signed and dated his name at the bottom.  _ Kylo Ren _ , it read, in jagged writing that looked as if a serial killer had penned it rather than the dapper businessman in front of her. Trying too hard not to think about American Psycho, Rey took the paper and gave it a once over to make sure everything had been signed. Once again Kylo Ren pointed out that he didn’t have a whole lot of time, but she murmured that it was a standard contract and he wouldn’t get any ink without it, so at the time it was a necessary evil. That shut him up. 

She watched as he draped his enormous frame over her work table when she asked him to, his arms coming out to prop up his chin as his eyes glazed over, picking a point to stare at on the wall ahead. There was little more to be said between them, she thought, and the music that filtered from her tiny speakers made quick work of filling up the silence. It wasn’t so loud as to prohibit conversation, or cover up the hum of her needle, but it gave her something else to focus on as she looked once more to the unfurled tattoo picture, and bit her bottom lip. She had a better idea. 

The needle bit into his skin with ease, and she worked to redo the outline as best she could, giving it shape, definition. A good thing he’d paid for half of the work upfront, she thought as she looked at her already paltry supply of black pigment. This was going to need a fuck ton to say the very least. 

“I need to be out of here no later than three,” he murmured, though his body hardly moved as he did. Either he was really damn good at anticipating what it was she needed, or else the previous tattoo shop he’d gone to had berated him about moving while they were working. Somehow, she wouldn’t put it past him. He didn’t seem like the type to sit still for a long while. There was a certain nervous energy around him, one that had put her on edge the first time he’d stepped through the door, but now it was calm. Tranquil. Curious how laying down at the mercy of a woman with a tattoo gun in her hand did the trick. 

Her mind wandered in between quick, periodic glances up at the clock. His back was broad, and well muscled. She never would’ve guessed it from the way he looked with the suit on, but the fitted arms and shoulders did well to conceal his well built physique. He must’ve lifted, and absently she wondered just how easy it would be for him to raise her up into his arms. He could probably fucking benchpress her without so much as a grunt of effort. She pressed her thighs together at the thought. That wasn’t appropriate. He was, as of an hour ago, her client. She couldn’t be thinking about fucking her client, let alone while she had her fucking tattoo gun in hand and was trying to fix a messed up piece. What the hell was wrong with her? 

Sucking on her bottom teeth, she pursed her lips and went back to working, determinedly ignoring the way his muscles relaxed under her touch. He had a slew of moles that swam like constellations down his back, and she was careful not to ink any of them by accident, not wanting to cause infection or undue pain. She doubted his other artist would’ve been so thoughtful. 

Maybe he’d royally pissed them off. Insulted them, even, and their revenge had been to fuck up his tattoo. A stupid move on their behalf, but Rey couldn’t blame them. She’d thought about it more than once, not with Kylo. Not yet, at least. There’d been a party of dudebros who’d come in when she and Finn had just set up shop, and their ringleader, a man by the name of Teedo, had been less than polite in regards to her work. He’d come in asking for some stupid tribal shit, had argued about the price, and when he found out she was going to be the one administering the tattoo he’d thrown the biggest bitch fit she’d seen. Fucking two year olds were more mature than the hissy fit he threw. 

She’d shoved the money back against his chest and threatened him with a couple of bruises she’d be happy to make permanent if he didn’t get the fuck out of her store. 

Somehow she couldn’t quite see Kylo being  _ that  _ rude, but she’d been wrong before. 

 

She stopped at a quarter to three, wanting to give him more than enough time to recover from laying there for so long. Certainly she’d done longer, but if he was on a time crunch he really shouldn’t have come in to get just a part of it done. She’d have to start in a different section the next time as the first healed to avoid injuring or scarring and really? The whole thing really was a mess of a situation. His movements were sluggish after she’d applied the proper care to his back, his every movement taking care not to aggravate the raw parts of his back. “You’ll need to be careful. I take it you sit at a desk all day?” she asked, watching as he pulled on his tanktop, then his button up. He nodded, gaze flickering up to hold hers. 

“How’d you know?” 

“I don’t know many who could afford that nice of a suit who aren’t either on their feet all day trading stocks, or sitting at a desk in the city. Just be careful not to lean on it too often. It’s gonna be tender. You’ll wanna sleep on your front and avoid all strenuous activity to your back. Working out, stretching too far, sex.” Oh. Fuck, she shouldn’t have said that. 

She felt her cheeks go pink but she determinedly looked at him, watching as the corner of his lips twisted upwards. “Oh. That’s quite the specific one.” 

Rey offered him a small shrug. “Call it experience. Trying to cover all your bases so that you don’t end up fucking up your back. And we’ll need to schedule you for me to work on the next one.” 

If she thought she’d be able to get away with that pathetic excuse for an explanation, his expression told her she was sorely mistaken. “Experience?” 

“Of the word of mouth variety,” she said with a one-shouldered shrug. He didn’t need to know anything more. “Now. When are you free next?” 

 

He came back two weeks later, this time carefully scheduled in to her not so busy book of appointments. Not that he needed to know that. For all he knew, she was a very busy women with a book load of clients who’d die for her to ink them up and send them on their way, their fat checks making her pocketbook swell. As it was, she’d had a scared college kid who hardly looked 18 come in for a consultation (she doubted he’d carry through), and an older gentleman come in for a touch up. He’d been nice, of the silver fox variety with a smile that said he knew he aged well and wasn’t opposed to younger girlfriends. She’d kept her smiles tight lipped and her words clipped just short enough to keep him from reading too far into it, but not so much that he thought her rude. It was a very short, thin line, but she walked it often enough times to do it well. 

No sooner had he stepped through the door, ducking down to keep from hitting his head on the frame, than he started to remove the suit jacket that sat so well fitted on his frame. He didn’t meet her gaze as he did, and she took a moment to appreciate the shifting of his body, the muscles that she’d seen just under the suit jacket and the button down collared shirt that hid the beginnings of his tattoo. A shame he kept himself so hidden, though if he could afford dressing the way he did she doubted he couldn’t exactly walk around in a tank proclaiming “Suns Out Guns Out.” For a moment she could almost see him sporting a snapback on backwards, a pair of khaki capris, and a pair of worn sandals and had to stifle a snort at the idea. She was losing her mind. 

“Any discomfort or pain?” she asked in lieu of greeting, standing up and wishing he didn’t already tower over her. 

“None. It’s healed well enough,” he assured her, folding his jacket over his arm and stepping closer. His eyes were dark as he began to unbutton his fitted shirt, following when she motioned for him to head to the back room with her. She’d already set her materials up in anticipation of his visit, even if she hadn’t been certain that he’d return. After all, he’d come to her looking for a new take on someone else’s work. What would be to say that he wouldn’t do the exact same thing? 

“So, Darth Vader?” she asked as he set his shirt and jacket down on a side chair, trying  _ not  _ to stare too hard at the muscles of his back as he eased himself down. “Personal hero?” 

“Grandfather,” he murmured, looking up at her in some semblance of surprise. “You know of him?” 

“I’d be a fucking idiot if I didn’t recognize that helmet.” 

He snorted, ducking his head down as she got to work washing her hands, affixing the new needle, cleaning her tools, then his back to ensure that any germs were killed before they even got started. He hissed at the chill of the disinfecting wipes and she found herself biting back an apology. 

“There are a lot of idiots in the world.”

“And you thought I’d be one?” she asked, words a quiet hum as she surveyed his back. Where in the hell did she want to begin? The eyes, sunken in and reflective, had caught her attention when she’d first stared at his design and she smiled as she got to work outlining them in the very center of his back. As she’d expected, the outline had had to be far larger than the original artist had intended in order to maintain its center on Kylo’s frame, and to make sure that the details weren’t lost. She’d worry about shading later, thinking how interesting it would be to have the red of the blade reflected back in his eyes to give them a sense of depth, and did her best to make the outline as expressive as possible. She wanted him to be glowering at whomever it was that saw the tattoo, wanted them to be so impressed with her work that they came to her for their own tattoo. 

This was, of course, all assuming that he even had any friends to show it off to. He struck her as a loner, this businessman with a tycoon for a grandfather. It must’ve been lonely, and difficult, growing up in that shadow. She had to pause after finishing the outline to refresh her ink, and a thought jolted her where she sat. “Holy shit. That means your mom’s Leia Organa.” 

His reaction was not at all what she’d expected. If he’d been surprised that she knew Vader, he must’ve been fucking shocked to realize that she knew his family. His head whipped to the side, eyes hard despite the flinch that ran through his body at the sudden motion. “Who the hell are you?” he hissed, sitting up. 

“You can’t do that--I’m nobody. Lay back down, you’re going to fuck up your back--.” 

“You can’t be nobody if you know about Vader and Leia.” 

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I read, yeah? I knew she had a son because I did a project on her. She’s kind of a badass, taking on corruption when she was the assistant DA, then--.” Then inditing and bankrupting her own father’s company when she’d found out he was selling government secrets and weapons to foreign enemies. 

Kylo’s mind seemed to follow the same train of thought. His teeth bared and his eyes hardened further. She watched his hands ball into fists, and thought about how much legal trouble she’d be in if she gouged him with the tattoo gun. 

If he came anywhere closer to her with that look in his eye, though, she wasn’t so sure she could help herself. 

“A project?” he sneered. “For school?” 

“Well yes. You don’t tend to do projects out of school, do you?” she snapped. “Look. I need to finish the outline if you want this completed anytime soon. You moving around right now when it hasn’t set--you’re going to aggravate it, and you’re not paying me so you can give yourself an infection and fuck up any chance of this tattoo coming out looking good.” 

For a solid minute, maybe two, he didn’t say anything. The look he pinned her with made breathing damn difficult, and she found herself wiping the sweat from her free hand on her jeans a couple times just to keep from feeling too clammy. She’d probably sweat herself unsterile, but he was finally laying back down with a quiet huff, and she allowed herself to relax a little. 

“Right. Let me wash my hands again. Want any water or anything?” She needed a second away from him, needed to catch her breath now that he wasn’t stripping her skin from her bones with his eyes. He murmured his assent, and she turned to leave, trying not to think about how perfectly the tattoo matched this fucking idiot’s personality. Volatile, snarky. Dangerous.

“I can do this,” she whispered quietly to herself in the safety of the small, closet-sized kitchen that came with the place. It housed their mini fridge, where she grabbed a bottle of water for her customer and tried to pull herself together. Shaky hands weren’t going to get her anywhere promising today. “I can do this.” 

 

Neither of them brought Vader up as Rey got back to work, her hands steady enough to finish up the top of the helmet and work her way out towards the completed edges. It was looking damn good, if she could say so herself, and rather than the one red sword down the very center, she modified it, outlining two separate ones that crossed behind the helmet. It looked more like a coat of arms rather than a death sentence. She’d told him she didn’t do anyone else’s work, after all. 

If he didn’t love it then he could go to someone else to fix  _ that  _ for all she gave a shit. It was going to look fucking badass, and there was nothing he could say to change her mind--or change the soon to be outcome--now that it was all outlined. 

When he hopped off the table to look at the work in the mirror she saw his lips pull tight. Preparing herself for the storm, she turned away from him, taking deep, slow breaths to keep herself calm. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for her to yell at another customer, let alone one with money. 

“Two?” 

She didn’t need to ask him to specify. “It’ll look great. Just wait.” She snuck a look and found he wasn’t remotely close to focusing on her, still fixating on his back. “Same rules as before. No sex on your back, be careful when you’re washing and when you’re going to sleep. Don’t fuck it up, please.” 

Kylo arched a brow at her final sentiment, and she swore she saw the corners of his lips quirk upwards ever so slightly. “I’ll do what I can,” he said dryly, tugging on his shirt with a small wince at how tender his skin was, exacerbated by his difficulty moving. “Same time in two weeks?” 

“I’ll pencil you in.” 

He nodded in understanding and moved to pass her by before pausing, his attention turned downwards. Rey followed his line of vision and saw that he had zeroed in on her own exposed forearms, the watercolor tattoos that she’d been experimenting with newly visible now that she’d rolled up her sleeves. 

“Did you do those yourself?” he asked, reaching out to take her wrist, bringing her body closer to his in the process. Her breath caught as goosebumps rose on her skin. 

“Yes,” she said simply. “Working on a new style.” 

“It’s very . . . abstract.” He turned her wrist, examining the birds that flew past her elbow and up past the hem of her shirt. She yanked her arm back. 

“Says the man with Darth Vader on his back.”

“At least he’s tangible and not cliched. Birds. Really?” 

She’d have slapped him if she didn’t need the money. Teeth bared, she stepped backwards and looked pointedly at the door, then back to him. “You had an appointment elsewhere, didn’t you?” 

 

By some unhappy coincidence she dreamt about him on the eve of his next visit, waking up with sticky thighs and a serious need for something between her legs, preferably long and thick. With a growl of frustration, she slid her fingers between her thighs, thumb slipping around her clit as she squeezed her eyes shut tight and tried not to think of how long it’d been since she’d last gotten fucked into the mattress. 

She was  _ not _ , determinedly not, thinking about Kylo and what possibly hung between his legs. Certainly he was tall, with big feet and hands, but that didn’t mean  _ shit  _ as far as she was concerned. He could’ve been small--. But something about that didn’t sit right. 

Rey groaned and flipped over onto her front, grinding against her hand as she buried her face in her pillow and rode against her palm. She couldn’t get the angle that she really wanted, but the movement of her hips and the sensation on her clit as helping, at least. She added pressure when the sensation dulled past what she needed it to be. How was it that she’d gotten herself off countless times, and right now it wasn’t working for her? She bit into the pillow to hide an irritated growl, the heel of her palm rubbing against her clit while two fingers furiously pumped inside her. When she finally came it wasn’t the rush, or the relief, she was used to, but rather felt as though she’d only fanned the flames further. 

And given the alarm that went off on her phone, she didn’t have time to try again. 

 

Work was  _ hellish _ with that sort of tension simmering just below her navel. Of course, it would be that day that brought in a couple of other good looking men to her shop, business slowly starting to pick up as she provided a consultation with the three of them, each looking to get matching tattoos for the would-be groom’s upcoming wedding. They were months away from it, but wanted something to commemorate the bachelor party with. The best man, who’d set up the appointment, hadn’t stopped making eyes at her the whole time, and it had only been with some reservation that she conceded to let Finn take the three men, and set up an appointment for them to meet with him. She had enough to focus on with Kylo Ren, the last thing she needed was to confuse pleasure with work. 

But then the aforementioned son of a bitch came in in a pair of low-slung jeans that displayed his ass just right and an old, faded t-shirt, and her mouth watered like never before. 

“No work today?” she asked, allowing herself a small smile when he stepped through the door and headed back towards the same room they’d been using since his first time. 

“Took a personal day,” he said. Was she imagining it, or were his eyes focusing perhaps a little more intently on her than before? She felt her cheeks begin to burn with the attention and turned her attention instead to sterilizing the needle on the tattoo gun rather than stare at him. The tattoo was coming along really nicely, she noticed once his shirt was off. It looked good when he flexed, his muscles shifting just enough to make it seem as though Vader was alive and staring at her, saying nothing about how well defined his back was--. 

Ohhh shit, it was going to be a long day. 

“Lay down for me?” she asked through her cotton mouth, swallowing to try and regain some moisture but finding there was none to spare for her. Shit. She was a goner. Client or not, he was damn attractive to look at, and the irritation with her fingers that morning seemed all the more offensive when she could’ve just as easily hopped on his dick--.

She turned the machine on and let the buzz of it drown out her lewd thoughts. 

“You seem distracted today,” Kylo said when there was a small pause. He wasn’t wrong. She’d had to take a break three different times for fear of pressing too hard and harming him, or else because he’d shifted and her mouth had started to water at the sight of his muscles moving so sinuously. 

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” she said easily, hoping it would quiet him enough that she could try and get through the rest of it. Her thighs were already pushed together so hard that it would be a damn miracle if they didn’t cramp up. 

His body vibrated with his hum, and she felt her grip on the gun tighten. “Why’s that?” he asked. “Not enough energy burnt off before bed? Maybe you should find a new boyfriend. Or girlfriend, if that’s your thing.” 

Did he know? How could he? She gritted her teeth together and fought to keep from stabbing him with the machine. He seemed to get off on her lack of an answer, though, and turned to look at her with a grin on his face. “You know, your directions seemed really pointed about me not having sex on my back. You prefer being on the bottom yourself?” 

“That’s not really any of your business,” she growled, staring so pointedly at his back that it actually began to blur. She blinked a couple times. Fuck. “Don’t they teach you about sexual harassment at your work? Or do you like being reported?” 

“Fine,” he said as he turned to face forward, but she could hear the smirk in his voice and it set her teeth on edge. “I just thought I’d offer up my services is all. If you need help going to sleep.” 

“So you’re saying having sex with you will put me to sleep. Hell of a way selling your prowess, that is.” 

Glee shot through her gut as he stiffened beneath her, and she had to pull away as he made to get up, sitting ramrod straight and staring at her. It felt nice to have the upper hand, or some semblance of it, for once. Something told her she might not get it too often, certainly not with him, so she had to take her victories where she could get them. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” His eyes bore into hers, his lips pulled tight over his teeth in a grimace that had her wondering just how touchy he was about his lovers falling asleep in the middle of sex. To be this sensitive about it meant that it had happened, or come close, and Rey’s mood skyrocketed. 

“It’s not so fun to have someone misconstrue what you’re saying, is it?” Her head tipped to the side, her smile honey sweet as she stared at him. 

Just  _ where  _ he’d learned to move so quickly she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. One second he was glowering at her, looking as though he’d love nothing more than to rip her head off, the next he’d crushed his lips against hers, one thick arm wrapped around her waist and cementing her against his broad chest. The fire that she’d worked to suppress all day came alive, burning her throat and chest as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, the tattoo gun having been set back on the table. He tried to stand, only to find the angle didn’t work, and so instead pulled her bodily up and into his arms right there on the table. Rey whined to feel him against her, his cock a hard outline against his jeans that had her hips rocking in order to get some of that friction she was desperate for. Hot damn, she hadn’t missed the mark in guessing how big he was. He sucked on her bottom lip, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin, and she whined as her hips ground against his, legs already wrapped around his waist. How easy was it to grow acclimated to this man? And how scared should she be that she already knew just how to seat herself in his lap? 

Out of habit she reached down to claw at his back, needing to find purchase on his skin, but stopped herself just short of actually making contact. She’d not only fuck up her work, but seriously injure him if she did so, and it was with a great groan of disappointment that she pulled away from his lips. 

“Not--not here,” she said. Her breathing was coming hard, her eyes were hooded, and where she felt like she’d been blindsided by a train, Kylo looked it. “Not here. Let me finish your tattoo for the day.” 

He made a noise low in his throat, one that didn’t bode well for her idea, but she pressed a finger to his lips. “Buy me dinner tonight, because when you fuck me it’s sure as shit not going to be on this table.” 

Kylo’s grin was pure sin. As his eyes darkened further at the mention of  _ when  _ and not  _ if,  _ Rey couldn’t help but wonder if she’d seriously bitten off more than she could hope to swallow. When he squirmed underneath her, the thick length of his cock pressed against her core, she tried not to think about the literal implications of that train of thought. 


	2. spin him to the ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Goodness, I had plans of finishing this WAY before now, and making it longer--but truth be told I'm pretty happy with how it's ending. I hope you all enjoy it, too. Thank you so much for reading and commenting--it means the absolute world to me.   
> Enjoy! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Thankful that Finn wasn’t home by the time she got back to their shared apartment, Rey went through at least a dozen or so outfits as soon as she stepped into her room, not knowing exactly where it was that Kylo would be taking her, and not sure what sort of message she should even be giving. Sure, they’d been ready to jump one another’s bones right then and there in the shop, but she didn’t exactly want her outfit of choice to scream ‘FUCK ME NOW.’

Did she? Why was this all so complicated?

They’d exchanged numbers before he’d disappeared out the door, and before she could think second about it she texted him:  _ What do I need to wear? _

She’d only just set down the phone when it vibrated with another text. Trying not to smile too widely, she looked down to see his response.

KYLO:  _ If I say nothing is that too brash?  _

She snorted, shaking her head and tapping out a response. She avidly avoided the way that her stomach was doing flips at the idea. 

REY:  _ That’ll result in me going to jail and I’m wayyy too pretty for that. Fancy, laid back? I need at least a clue so I don’t wear jeans to a nice restaurant or a dress to a dive. _

That was a good enough reason, wasn’t it? The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass herself, or him by extension. He was a businessman, he’d get it. 

KYLO:  _ A nice dress will do the trick. I’ll be wearing black and white.  _

She snorted at that. Wasn’t that shocking? Did he own any other colors? She’d hardly seen any on him, she realized as she pulled out her go to from the closet, smoothing her hands over the soft cotton. It’d seen better days, but it was one of the nicest things she owned. She was long overdue for a Goodwill expedition, but without much more time to waste, if she wanted to do her hair and make up, she couldn’t afford to focus on anything else. With a curse, she rushed to start the shower, taking a peek at the clock and swearing again. Typical Rey to be running late. 

 

In all the times that he’d been coming to her shop she’d never taken a look at what it was that he drove. If she was being frank, she’d tended to just assume that he was driven everywhere, rather than deign to drive himself. It wasn’t that he seemed the type--but he seemed the type, and when money beget more privilege, it all fit together. Kylo Ren, pulling up to her shitty apartments in a black, sleek sports car, was not what she had in mind at all. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress as he got out of his car to approach her, his lips spread in a smile that made his eyes warm up in such a way that she hadn’t seen before, and when he leaned down to kiss her she was taken aback by how chaste he was keeping it. 

“No one here that I have to worry about impressing, right?” he asked the space between them as he pulled away. She shook her head, and his arm wrapped tight around her waist to pull her up against his chest, this time going back for a far deeper kiss. His tongue slid against her bottom lip, and with a groan she opened for him, fisting her hands in the black jacket he’d taken up. Fuck, that was more like it. 

“Didn’t want to chance it,” he admitted quietly when they came up for air. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Please.” She allowed him to lead her to his car, opening the door for her before returning to his side. In his absence, she let her hands and eyes wander, touching the sleek leather interior with a mix of reverence and disbelief. If someone had told her that she’d be sitting in a Destroyer class, on her way to a fancy restaurant, she’d have laughed in their face and asked whether or not they’d share whatever it was that put them on a trip. 

She pinched herself just before he got in, determined to prove now that this wasn’t, in fact, a dream. 

“Ready?” Kylo asked, sliding on his seat belt as he threw the car into gear. She nodded, following suit, and digging her fingers into the leather seat as he sped off with a roar from the engine. She could’ve moaned to hear it really open up as they slipped off of the side roads leading to her apartment, heading what looked like out of town. A thrill went up her spine, and her fingers abandoned the detailing on the edge of her seat in favor of texting Finn a quick heads up. She had a date, they were going out of town. If he didn’t hear from her in an hour he needed to get help because she had possibly been killed. 

God, she hoped she wasn’t going to get killed. Who would finish his tattoo for him if she did? 

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, more out of a desire to shut up that terrified voice in the back of her head than anything else. 

The grin he shot her told her that he might’ve figured out what she was thinking, and his right hand left the wheel in favor of running up and along her thigh. She shuddered, especially when he squeezed. 

“It’s a nice restaurant, I promise.”

“That doesn’t sound sketch at all,” she muttered quietly under her breath. “Like an Applebee’s?”

He snorted, shaking his head as he looked over at her. “Nothing like Applebee’s.” 

She flushed. She wasn’t sure that she’d worn the appropriate dress, then. It wasn’t as though she had any gowns on hand, or that she’d expect him to take her to such a nice place. She crossed her legs and tried not to think about the heat spreading from where his hand had squeezed her, Kylo having replaced it on the wheel once more. Was she getting in too far over her head? She didn’t think she could say just yet, but fuck, if she was could she ever find her way back? 

 

The nice restaurant turned out to be a small sushi place just downtown, the site boasting all of half a dozen tables, half of which were filled by the time they got there. Kylo pulled out her seat for her, ordering them both sake before Rey could so much as look at the menu. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she watched him sit down. 

“You’re not going to order for me, too, are you?” she asked, brow arched to let him know she was at least somewhat teasing. 

He paused, his mouth opening to form a response, before he closed it again. “I never  realized I’d done it.”

“Not at all?” she asked, smoothing her skirt over her legs and tipping her head to the side ever so slightly. Wasn’t it obvious?

“No. Not really.” 

“Oh,” she said for lack of anything else better. “Well, I like sake, and I’ve never been here before, so I’m open to suggestions.”  It was only a half truth. She’d never tried sake, and she’d never tried sushi. Her variety was a far more pedestrian, fast food-heavy diet, nothing that cost near as much as was on this menu. It made sense why it was such a small place. Could anyone really afford this much money for fish? It seemed ridiculous. 

He pointed out his favorites, and she tried not to make a face when he described the eel roll to her, Rey wondering how it was anything that looked that slimy could possibly be so delicious. Their drinks came, and she ordered three things she could hardly pronounce, finding a safe balance between shrimp tempura and a crab roll that sounded interesting at best. Kylo’s choices were far more specific, though he hardly looked at the menu to order. No, his gaze stayed fixed onto her almost the whole time, and when their waitress took their menus he hardly even thanked her. Rey did it for him, tearing her gaze away to look at the woman instead. God, had he always been this intense?

“What’re you thinking?” he asked quietly as soon as the other woman was out of earshot. 

Rey, who’d made to take a drink of her sake, put the cup down to look at him instead. “I was wondering whether or not you were this intense about everything,” she told him, meeting his gaze and watching his eyes flash with confusion. “Your tattoo, your dates. This is a date, I’m guessing.” 

“That’s what I’d call it.”

“Have you always been this . . . hyper focused?”

That seemed to stump him. He steepled his fingers in front of him, allowing Rey time to take a sip of the sweet liquor in front of her. It tasted like apples, sweet and crisp on her tongue, and she found herself taking a deeper second drink. ‘This ought to be illegal,’ she thought as she licked the remaining drops from her lips, catching Kylo watching her tongue’s movement with interest. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, leaning back with a knowing smirk on his lips. She wanted to punch it off. Or kiss it off. 

‘No, definitely punch it off.’ She didn’t like him looking as though he had one up on her. Instead she shrugged. “You’re ignoring my question.”

“Are you sure?” 

She scowled, putting the cup down to stare at him, watching as he endured it with that same god awful smirk and his arms folded over his chest. “I  _ was  _ enjoying myself until you decided to be an asshole. If you don’t want to talk about it that’s one thing, fine. That doesn’t give you a reason to be a prick. Especially if you’re calling this a first date.” She kept her voice low to keep any of the others from overhearing them. It was tacky to fight in public, and at a nice restaurant? Well, she might’ve kissed any chances at a second date goodbye, but why would she even want one if he couldn’t be honest with her? 

She waited, as patiently as she could manage, as he stared back at her without saying a word. Then, just as she was about to get up and tell him to go fuck himself, he uncrossed his arms and sighed quietly. “That’s not a conversation I’m comfortable having just yet,” he admitted. His voice was quiet, and stayed her other reservations, if only for a moment. “I’m sorry to be an ass. This isn’t--this isn’t how I thought today would go.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and Rey watched his adam’s apple bob as he seemingly struggled over the words. “There’s something between us, Rey. I know you felt it as soon as I walked in the door, and I’ve been similarly affected. It makes me not able to think around you, and as such I tend to come off like a prick. I’m sorry.” 

She absorbed his words in silence, sipping at her water rather than going back to the liquor. The last thing she wanted, especially right then, was to lose her head. That wouldn’t help either of them. As he raised his gaze to her once more she allowed herself the smallest quirk of a smile. “What do you mean  _ tend to _ ? You’re always a--ow!” She broke off with a laugh as he half-heartedly kicked her under the table, not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to get his point across. She appreciated it. He was right, after all, and as infuriating as he might’ve been she wanted to see where everything led. 

The heated look he gave her, as he caught her ankle when she returned fire with a kick of her own, told her he had an idea where he wanted it to lead. 

 

Dinner was a rush from then on out. Between the sake, and Kylo’s insistent need to touch her whenever he could get a half second, Rey’s brain all but melted before their food had even made it out to them. It was difficult, with his fingers gently tracing her ankle and smooth, freshly shaved legs, to focus on much else, and maybe that was his point. She couldn’t ask any more annoying, pointed questions if she didn’t have the cognizant ability to. The sushi was good, far better than raw fish and some fancy rice had any reason to be, but she couldn’t focus much on anything but the feel of him against her. 

Not that she didn’t get him back. Halfway through, his phone rang, and while he scrambled to silence it she made her move. Her foot pressed, with a bit of straining on her behalf, against his cock, rubbing at the hardened outline of his trousers. Kylo’s whole body froze, phone held tight in his hand as Rey added the slightest bit of pressure. She swore she heard the phone crack as his grip tightened, and smirked to see his ears burning bright red. 

“Shall we get dessert?” she asked. “Or just a to go box?” 

 

She couldn’t get much more than just a vague impression of his apartment besides the fact that it was well furnished, dark, and obscenely expensive. Far larger than her closet of an apartment, but she shuddered to think about the expense. She’d only just turned around to say something--comment on the furnishings? Ask if he wanted her to take her shoes off?--when he had her crowded up against the closed door, his lips on hers, his large hands wrapping around her far smaller wrists. Her body shuddered as his warm breath fanned against her lips and throat, teeth nipping at the soft curve of her jaw. 

“Wanna take you right up against this wall,” he growled, and Rey shuddered again. Her nails bit into her palms, hands fisted to try and garner some sense of reality as he ground his hips against hers. “And every surface of my apartment.” 

“Just so long as you’re not on your back,” Rey gasped as his teeth bit down on her throat, and he sucked. “I’m down for that.” She felt his body vibrate with laughter, and found herself grinning as well. 

Despite his claims he led her back to the bedroom, speeding her through the dark hallway leading towards his bed. “Bathroom’s down there,” he motioned vaguely, as if she could really follow where it was he was gesturing, before he had her back in his arms. Greedily, she slipped her hands over his broad shoulders, pulling off his jacket and letting it fall to the ground. For a half second Kylo paused, and she wondered whether or not he’d stop to collect it, if the article of clothing mattered that much to him. Surely he’d dry cleaned his clothes before, so why would he get so hung up about having to do the same? 

He seemed to think along those same lines, and his body sprang into action just seconds later, lips crushing against hers as he worked to undo the zip that held her dress up. Cool air kissed her skin before his warm palms pushed it away, covering her shoulders, hips, and breasts with his hot touch. She stepped out of her dress as soon as it hit the floor, kicking her shoes off as well, but rather than pressing back into the heat of his body against hers moved backwards with a sly grin on her face. 

“Come get me.” 

Even in the dark of his room she could see his body coiled to spring, his lips spreading in an obscene smile as he stalked closer. His stance was wide, but just as he lunged to get her, she spun and whipped around him. Her bare feet padded against the hardwood floor, but she’d barely made it to the door when his enormous arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her up and off of her feet, yanking her back towards the bed. She yelped, limbs flailing and trying desperately  _ not  _ to think about the fact that his arms were practically thicker than her midsection, before he had her laid out on the bed. This time his figure loomed over hers, all hard planes and angles that she was desperate to run her fingers over, had he not taken her wrists and held them up above her head. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin as he kissed his way down her throat, her collarbone, and peppered them over her breasts. She moaned when his mouth enveloped her right nipple, the hot, wet heat short-circuiting her brain as his tongue slid over the sensitive bud, and his teeth dragged against the underside of her breast. 

“Shit, oh. Kylo.” Her hips canted upwards, breath caught in her throat so that the words were garbled even to her own ears. She closed her eyes, face screwed up as pleasure rocked her core and slid through her veins until it infected her entirety. Her fingers reached into his hair, digging into the soft locks and pulling just hard enough to make him groan beneath her. She liked the way his body vibrated atop hers, liked the heat of his broad chest as it pressed against her narrow waist. Her legs slipped just perfectly around his hips, careful to steer clear of his still healing tattoo, especially when she dug her heels into his sides to get him to slither closer to her. His hands made quick work of what was left of his clothes, and he pressed into her with little more than a groan for a warning. She hissed through her teeth at the pressure and friction, not having expected him to be so damn  _ filling _ , and had to tap him a couple times on the shoulder to get his attention. 

“Slow down,” she gasped, sure she tasted blood from how hard she’d bitten the inside of her cheek. Holy fuck. “You’re huge. Gimme a second.” 

There was no mistaking the grin in his quiet, pleased laugh, but he stopped to allow her to catch her breath. His lips, tongue, and teeth made a slow banquet of her skin, kissing and sucking his way down her throat while he waited, and she had to remind herself that she wasn’t able to drag her nails down his back like she wanted to. Unbidden, the idea of doing so when his tattoo healed came to mind, and she shuddered at the thought of riding him until he went cross eyed with pleasure. 

When she finally started rolling her hips to match his slow, shallow thrusts, he allowed himself to deepen them. They worked slowly, her fingers digging into his biceps as he held himself above her with all the determination of a man set on taking his time. As she grew more comfortable he became more bold, sitting back up on his knees and gripping her hips tight enough to bruise, actively pulling her onto his cock over and over until Rey was howling and clawing at the sheets beneath her. The world had dissolved into pleasure and sensation, into heat and friction, and it drugged her mind into thinking that this? This surely had to be the best thing there ever was. 

He managed to hit that sweet spot within her, the one that made her clamp up around his cock and milk him for all that he was worth as she whimpered and shook. Her toes curled, her mouth hung slack, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes wide as she stared at him in unseeing awe. 

He pulled out and stroked himself to completion on her stomach moments later, groaning her name with swollen lips and glazed eyes, watching greedily as she dipped her fingers into the warm pool of come and swallowed the taste of him down. 

 

She woke him up with her mouth on his cock, trying to take as much of him in as possible, and he fucked her into the mattress once he reached cognisance, one hand gripping her hair tightly, the other peppering her ass with the shape of his hand, hard enough to make her screech. 

 

His tattoo was shaping up. He brought her coffee with every new visit, not taking long to learn just how she liked it, and she hid a pleased smile behind the steaming cup every time he got it right before leading him back to the room. Vader now stared out at her from the same skin she’d kissed and thought so hard about digging her fingers into. It wouldn’t be long, she thought, if they were still fucking by the time this endless project came to an end. Though they didn’t speak about his family in length, she found out that he still spoke with his mother for the holidays, and he invited her over for the Fourth of July when he found out she didn’t have a family of her own to spend the day with. They went at it while watching the explosions from the wide room of his bedroom, his chest to her back, his thrusts shallow as she slung one leg over his hips and he rolled her clit with his pointer finger until she lost track of how often she’d come. The pill was getting to be more affordable the more appointments he made and kept up with, so when he came, buried deep inside her, Rey couldn’t deny herself the pleasure that came from pressing at her abdomen and feeling it ooze out of her. How fucked was she?

 

“Your last appointment is this weekend,” she mused as she looked over her shoulder at him, eyes blinking blearily. The sky had long since gone quiet, but though their own fireworks had long since been over with she found herself unable to sleep. Given the slow drag of his fingertips over her arms, tracing the bird and its flight, Kylo was in the same boat. She shifted in his arms, and his fingers stopped. “Excited to be done?” 

He offered up a shrug, the sheets rustling with his movement. “Yeah. I guess.” 

She frowned, and her stomach twisted. He guessed? That didn’t sound promising in the slightest. “Are you not happy with the work?” She couldn’t help the defensive tone, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried not to take it too personally. If he’d hated it, why didn’t he stop her before this? It wasn't as though he'd ever been adverse to speaking his mind. She'd thought she'd caught him sneaking more than enough peeks in the mirror at the tattoo shop to justify her assumption that he liked it, but maybe he didn't? Maybe she'd imagined it? She tasted blood and winced at the pain. 

“No, I am. Just--been thinking. I want to get my arms done, too. Sleeves.” He kissed the side of her temple, and his fingers dragged their way up her arms again, as though to illustrate his point. “Think you’ll have any free time?” 

Her shoulders relaxed, and she caught herself smiling without even realizing it. “I’ll have to buy more black ink since you don’t believe in color,” she teased, pinching his thigh just hard enough to make him shudder. “But yeah. I can pencil you in.” 


End file.
